View full sizeImpatiens are showy in summer, but now are starting to look spent as fall approaches.

It's funny -- I remember how stressed I was about planting my container garden in June, worrying that weekend commitments had pushed the job into month's end, prodding my husband to help me find and carry the ceramic pots up from the basement.

Next came golden evenings spent watering the flowers, when water spritzing from the faucet felt good on my toes, and I waved to neighbors walking their dogs or pushing strollers -- or, in the case of one ambitious new mom, pushing a wee one and managing three wee dogs on leashes.

Now it's almost over. The impatiens are leggy and spent. The petunias are tired and starting to go to seed. And the tomatoes -- well, more about that later.

Overall, it hasn't been the best summer for my container garden. Last year, the impatiens fairly exploded, melding together into big fluffy balls of color that lifted my heart. This year, the plants just sat there for weeks. Finally they fluffed, but just barely.

The coleus were content to let the impatiens hog the stage this year. The broad leaves of caladiums were damaged in a hard rain, and the plants just melted away.

The big news from my yard this year was the introduction of petunias. Since a large but diseased silver maple was removed from the tree lawn last fall, I now have sun for about half the day in the front yard. My mom always grew petunias -- or 'tuneys, as she called them -- so I was eager to finally have some in my yard.

I selected Proven Winners Supertunia Giant Pink, the same hybrid that's used to spectacular effect in the plantings at Crocker Park. It was the Year of Pink in my yard -- all pink petunias, impatiens and trailing geraniums. On days when I wore hot pink, I matched the yard.

The petunias looked jaunty in pots set on white children's chairs I bought for two bucks at a garage sale. The flowers bloomed and cascaded until I let them go a little too long between waterings during a hot spell. They swooned; I overcompensated by letting the pots sit in water. Hey, they didn't dry out again, but they lost vigor.

Next to the petunias I set three pots of tomatoes, another sun-lover I had long wanted to grow. The largest pot was reserved for the Mighty 'Mato, a new line of hybrid and heirloom plants promised to be vigorous, pest- and disease-resistant and capable of producing huge yields of large tomatoes.

The Mighty 'Mato quickly loomed over the cherry tomato plants purchased at a neighborhood plant sale, but the cherries ripened first. I eagerly plucked the first tiny red globes, rinsed them, popped them in my mouth -- and made a face. They were mealy and tasteless, no better than store-bought.

In a few more weeks, the 'Matos were ready. Surely, now I'd experience the explosion of flavor that home-grown tomatoes are supposed to have.

Nope. Mighty 'Mato was mighty disappointing -- and it eked out only three average-sized 'matoes.

In fairness -- and in case the Mighty 'Mato folks read this -- it's possible that 'Mato's poor performance wasn't the plant's fault. It's probably not meant to be grown in a pot, and needs more sun that my yard was able to give it.

But a couple of little miracles kept summer from being a total disappointment. Black-eyed Susans migrated from my neighbor's yard to mine, nestling into a bed of day lilies and mint.

And in another instance of volunteerism, impatiens colonized an empty pot all by themselves. First a few leaves appeared (thank goodness I recognized them and didn't yank them as weeds), then a few blooms, and now the entire pot is as full as if I had planted it myself.

In a few weeks I will reluctantly start to move my houseplants from their summer home on the porch back inside. The hanging geraniums will be moved to storage shelves behind the garage, and the hostas will be cut down.

It's brutal, this early chopping, dismantling and putting away, but I've learned to be hard-hearted. Otherwise, the fall jobs pile up, and I'm still lugging pots after the first snowfall.

It's tough to tell the beautiful flowers that greeted me every morning and evening that their time is done. But it's time to start dreaming of next year. I have plans to expand my backyard perennial beds to eliminate more of the weedy, ivy-ridden grass.

And there's a book on my desk, "Planting the Dry Shade Garden: The Best Plants for the Toughest Spot in Your Garden" by Graham Rice, that I'll read over the winter. I hope it will tell me what to do about the so-dark-nothing-grows section of my backyard.

Say goodbye to summer and let the garden rest. Spring will be back before we know it.

Follow Us

cleveland.com is powered by Plain Dealer Publishing Co. and Northeast Ohio Media Group. All rights reserved (About Us).The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Northeast Ohio Media Group LLC.